


Green in the Crown

by pagerunner



Series: The Family Tree [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/pseuds/pagerunner
Summary: Keyleth's ongoing efforts to heal the Sun Tree may end up helping a friend heal, too. A companion story to Of Oak and Ash and Grasping Thorn.





	

The first glimpse of green Keyleth saw in the Sun Tree wasn’t a leaf.

It took time to notice it, wrapped up as she was in scrutinizing her progress. Not much was truly evident yet. The tree was still in the long process of healing, and they were well into winter now, besides: a gray, dormant month by any measure, with the skies coldly blank in a way she wasn’t quite accustomed to.

Still, there was an eye-catching flicker of color overhead. Keyleth’s gaze tracked up.

Above her in the tree’s wide branches was a fluttering shape, one she fleetingly mistook for natural growth until she saw better what it was. A small scrap of fabric, cut into a long, narrow strip, had been tied to the end of a surprisingly high branch. It flared out again under a snap of wind, then settled. Keyleth leaned forward, one hand flat against the Sun Tree’s trunk for support as she craned her neck to see. “What’s this?”

There was no reply, exactly, except for the usual faint sense of presence from the tree. She glanced at it slantwise. “You don’t know either, huh?”

Most likely the branches were only being stirred by the wind, but the way they swayed gave the impression of a shrug. Keyleth, smiling, shrugged it off in turn. Still, it was easy to wish it were true. It was like seeing any hint of warmth in the wood: maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, or maybe it was a real reason to hope.

That little green banner made her feel much the same way, no matter where it had come from or why.

“I don’t think it’ll hurt anything,” she said, patting the trunk. When she stood back, she added under her breath, “No more than everything else has, anyway.”

She swore she could hear a dry chuckle. Probably it was only the creaking of branches, or someone off in a distant corner of the square. Keyleth decided not to enquire. Instead, she made her best guess as to the time—the clouded skies didn’t make it easy—and stepped back. She had work to do elsewhere, no matter how much she wanted to stay.

“I’ll be back soon,” she told it. “Promise.”

The ribbon fluttered as Keyleth made her farewell, its color lingering in her memory for hours.

—

The next time Keyleth visited, that single ribbon had been joined by another.

“So what’s that about?” asked Grog, who had, to Keyleth’s surprise, volunteered to join her walk through town. Perhaps because of this, people were giving her a wider berth than usual. She and Grog were standing alone before the Sun Tree, and Grog was pointing up, indicating a fluttering ribbon of white.

“You know, I’m not sure.” Keyleth eyed the ribbon. Its green companion was still there, too, along with two blue ribbons Keyleth hadn’t noticed before. They looked a little bedraggled from the weather, but still vibrant in shade. “People have been leaving them here, but…”

“Are they just…decorating?”

“Or it’s symbolic.” She wished she could ask the tree, but it was quiet again this morning, slumbering through the morning chill. “I wonder if Percy would know.”

“Could be. Or you could ask her.”

Not sure what he meant, Keyleth turned. Behind them was a young child, braver than the rest of the passers-by, who’d walked up to them directly. Keyleth was struck by the image: this pale little thing in an oversized, hand-me-down coat, with a long strip of ivory cloth in one hand. Her eyes were wide with unabashed awe. Keyleth crouched down to meet her level.

“Hello,” she said softly. “Did you come to see the tree?”

The girl nodded, studying her curiously. “You have branches, too.”

“They’re antlers, actually. But…in a way.”

The girl hesitantly reached up—Keyleth nodded in encouragement—and touched the circlet, then Keyleth’s hair. At the girl’s wonder, Keyleth was conscious again of how _different_ she looked here: wilder, assuredly stranger, so brightly colored in a city still shadowed.

She blushed and glanced down, better seeing what the girl held when she did.

This cloth was embroidered with a delicate lace-like pattern. It looked like it had been cut out of something larger: a dress, perhaps, something finely made. The girl was holding it carefully. Keyleth, knowing deep down that this was something that _mattered,_ asked, “Did you bring that for someone?”

The girl whispered her answer as if it were an important secret. “Mama used to tie these for wishes. She said…”

She trailed off, in part because Grog had just moved closer, and she peered out around Keyleth to see. “Is that a giant?”

Grog raised an eyebrow. “I,” he said proudly, “am a goliath.” But he also crouched down, considering the girl solemnly. “Do you need a lift up to the tree?”

The girl’s eyes went wide. Keyleth said, “Don’t worry. He’s a nice goliath.”

“I wouldn’t say _nice,_ ” Grog grumbled, but when the girl finally nodded, he hoisted her onto his shoulders. She exclaimed when he stood, then giggled suddenly, beginning to enjoy herself. Keyleth badly suppressed her own smile at Grog’s expression. _He does have a soft spot,_ she thought. _No matter_ what _he says._

“Pick a good branch,” she called as Grog walked the girl closer. She spread her arms wide, indicating the whole of the tree. “You’ve got a lot to choose from!”

It was then that something pricked at her attention. There was another sign of movement in the corner of her eye, something that had begun approaching, then suddenly stopped.

Keyleth turned.

Not so far away, standing between a pair of well-dressed attendants who must have been guards, was Cassandra de Rolo. She was wearing a long, dark cloak that would have rendered her almost anonymous, but she’d pushed back the hood to see Keyleth and the tree. Keyleth was surprised at her expression. It was impossible to tell why, but Cassandra had gone wide-eyed and pale, as if she’d just seen a ghost.

Grog broke the mood with a bellow. “Got it!” he pronounced.

Keyleth whirled around. Grog was lowering the girl to the ground again, beneath the banner she’d carefully tied. The girl gave their handiwork a good look before she said, “Thank you, Mr. Goliath,” and gave Keyleth a big wave before darting away. Keyleth lost her in the crowd before she could respond.

By the time she could turn to look again, Cassandra, too, had vanished.

Keyleth stood there wordlessly for a while until Grog finally urged her onward. “Come on,” he said. “Places to be.” Distracted, she nodded in agreement, but she only followed him with reluctance, still wondering what Cassandra had seen.

There might have been the faintest murmur of reply from the Sun Tree, but no matter how Keyleth strained to hear it, she couldn’t make out the message before she and Grog were gone.

—

It rained the next day.

It didn’t fall gently, not in the hazy drizzle that Whitestone seemed to favor, but in a veritable downpour. It struck Keyleth as a cold, spiteful storm, not having the decency to chill all the way into snow and becoming infinitely more unpleasant for it. Unsurprisingly, all of Vox Machina ended up staying indoors. Many of them hadn’t even left their beds—Vax had grumbled enough at the prospect that Keyleth, amused, had left him to it—and Keyleth had found herself with little to do.

She ended up wandering the halls, mostly lost in thought until she realized her meanderings had brought her to the heart of the castle. There, at least, she wasn’t alone, for it turned out Cassandra was at work even earlier than she.

The young heir of Whitestone looked dwarfed by the imposing table where she sat. She was in the only occupied chair, thoughtfully reading through a stack of reports. Someone had left her a tray bearing tea and fresh bread, but she’d barely touched it. As ever, she looked poised and put together, but she also looked tired. In Keyleth’s experience, she always had.

 _No,_ Keyleth reconsidered. _That’s not quite right. It’s more that she’s…_

Cassandra looked up. Keyleth shivered when their eyes met.

 _Haunted,_ she thought instead.

“Ah, Keyleth. Good morning.” Cassandra shook her head as if to banish a distraction. Another messenger deposited a stack of envelopes beside her, bowing slightly before walking away. Cassandra gave it the briefest of sighs before asking wryly, “Did you also have something to add to the pile?”

Keyleth held back a smile. In that moment, Cassandra had sounded very much like her brother. “No. I’m sorry to interrupt. I just…”

She trailed off, remembering the strangeness of the day before. Cassandra stepped in before Keyleth could decide what to say.

“Please, don’t apologize. Would you like to share my tea? I’m afraid I’m liable to let it go cold otherwise.”

Keyleth nodded. She noticed as she approached that there was a small wooden box on the table, neatly aligned beside Cassandra’s reports. The lid was latched, hiding whatever was inside. Cassandra didn’t remark upon it. She merely poured the tea into two small, fine cups and offered one to Keyleth, who took it with gratitude.

“They always leave me a full setting,” Cassandra said, blowing gently on her tea before sipping. “I think someone’s hinting that I need more company.”

“They might have a point.” When Keyleth realized she’d likely overstepped, she gulped hurriedly, almost burning her tongue. “I mean…you handle so much here alone. And you do it well, that’s obvious. But I know it’s easier with help. Or at least someone to talk to.”

A shadow flickered over Cassandra’s expression before she ventured a smile. “In that case, I’m glad you’ve come. Although I expect you’re not volunteering to take all this correspondence from Wildemount off my hands.”

“Oh, no. You don’t want me playing diplomat. My strengths…well, those are definitely elsewhere.”

“So I understand. You’ve been tending to the Sun Tree, haven’t you?”

Keyleth set down her tea. “Um, yes. I wanted to ask you, actually…”

“Yes?”

She almost blurted it out: _What were you doing there yesterday? What was it that upset you?_ What came out first, however, was, “Do you understand the ribbons?”

Cassandra looked puzzled, as if that weren’t the first question she’d been expecting, either. “The cloughties? It’s an old idea. Local folklore. Professor—“ She stopped very suddenly and changed her phrasing. “My tutor told me once it was a healing ritual. There used to be a tree by a well outside town that was covered in colored ties; people left them as prayers, or offerings. I think the Briarwoods had it cut down.” She paused. “I didn’t know it was being done at the Sun Tree until yesterday.”

“Are you all right with that?”

Cassandra sighed. “I sent someone before the storm hit to take them down. They’d just get ruined in the rain. I’ve been told that’s the idea, that the wish will get carried when the fabric disintegrates, but…if it were any other tree, I’d have left it alone, but the Sun Tree’s been damaged enough.”

“I understand, I think,” Keyleth said softly. “I don’t think the tree minds, though.”

Cassandra’s smile was oddly sad. “Doesn’t it?”

“No. I mean, we haven’t really _talked_ about it—it’s hard when he’s still healing—but that’s the impression I got.”

Cassandra thought about that. Her question was both hesitant and curious. “He?”

Keyleth paused, too. She’d mostly been thinking of the tree as an _it._ At the beginning, dead and desecrated as it was—and she still struggled with the memories of what had hung from the branches—it was hard to think anything else. Now, though, she had a better sense of what the tree was meant to be.

She wanted to help him return.

“I think that’s right,” she said at last. “Gender’s a little funny with plants, and oaks have both male and female flowers, but…it seems to fit. I hope I can talk to him soon to be sure.”

“You speak of magic like this like it’s an everyday thing for you.”

“After this much practice, it kind of is.”

Cassandra smiled again, but it looked wan. Wishing she understood what was troubling her, Keyleth dared a question. “Cassandra…I’m sorry, should I be calling you some specific title? I don’t really know how that works here.”

“Oh, no. Cassandra is fine.”

She bit her lip, then said it. “I saw you yesterday, by the tree. You looked…well, I was afraid I’d upset you. Have I done something wrong by being there?”

Cassandra flinched. She usually had such self control—carefully honed, Keyleth suspected, by years of living under the Briarwoods’ scrutiny—that on the rare occasions it cracked, her age became so obvious. Keyleth knew Percy wasn’t very old himself, no matter how much he pretended otherwise. Cassandra was younger still. Right now she looked it.

Despite that, she said with all apparent honesty, “No. It’s just…what I saw reminded me of something. An old dream, of standing before the tree…”

Keyleth watched her stare off into the distance, seeing something Keyleth couldn’t, before she pulled her composure back around her like a cloak. “That dream ended badly,” she said wryly. “I trust your efforts won’t. It’s just a difficult memory to shake.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Cassandra reached for her tea, but set it back down before drinking anything. “In any case, your work there is important. I’ll make sure you don’t have any interference. Whether or not the tree minds it now…I’m not sure that’s the best thing to leave unchecked.”

Keyleth nodded. Still, she couldn’t help but think of that little girl. _Mama used to tie these for wishes…_ “It’s too bad, if people had been putting such thoughts and hopes into it.”

“I know. Perhaps we can arrange something better. I’ll think about it.” Cassandra’s hand settled atop the box. After a moment of thought, she moved it closer to Keyleth. “It’s also why I kept these.”

Keyleth eyed her, then opened the lid.

The box was filled with strips of cloth, more than Keyleth expected. Most were green, blue, or white, crimped in the middle from where they’d been tied but painstakingly laid flat again. Keyleth lifted a few to look. One had a sun sewn into it with tiny, precise stitches, and she gently rubbed her thumb across it, careful of the fabric’s fraying edges.

“They want the tree to heal, too,” Keyleth said.

“Of course,” Cassandra replied softly. “We all do.”

Keyleth put the fabric back and closed the lid. After a second she asked, “Would you mind if I brought these with me?” Cassandra looked curious. Keyleth explained, “I don’t mean to put them back on the branches. But when I do the really intensive work, the deeper magic, I…well, I meditate a lot. And I wonder if having these with me might help me connect better to everything. All of Whitestone’s part of this—the people, the land, the traditions…you’re all linked. But as for me…”

Keyleth thought of that little girl again, looking at her with such puzzled wonder.

“I’m not really part of it yet,” Keyleth admitted. “Maybe that’s why it’s been a challenge.”

Cassandra traced the crest laid into the box before sitting back. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” Feeling like this was the most graceful exit she was likely to get, Keyleth took up the box and rose from her seat. “I should go to the tree, then. Work to do.”

“In this weather?”

“I have a place. Don’t worry.”

Cassandra looked at all the work before her, sighed, and nodded. Keyleth began making her way out, and was almost to the door before she heard something: a skid of wood against wood, then footsteps. Cassandra was hurrying up to meet her, almost at a run.

When she stopped, she said the last thing Keyleth had expected.

“Can I help?”

—

The walk to the tree was long and solitary, apart from each other’s company.

Few people were out in such weather, and despite the insistence of Whitestone’s guards, Cassandra had gone all imperious and declared they’d go unescorted. “Keyleth is immensely powerful,” she’d said, while Keyleth spoiled the effect somewhat by blushing. “I’ve seen her emerge victorious against the worst of our foes. I’m certain we’ll be perfectly safe.”

So onward they went, Cassandra hooded once more and Keyleth providing what rain shield she could, to find the entrance to Keyleth’s underground cavern.

“I dug this out a little while ago,” Keyleth explained, showing Cassandra the tunnel. “It helped me get closer to the roots. It’s where I’ve been doing all the real work since.”

Cassandra pushed back her hood to study it, her brows drawn. “Just how much tunneling have you done beneath my city, exactly?”

“Just this, and then there’s…well, don’t worry, it’s all reinforced.” Keyleth cleared her throat. “Also, um, it might be a little muddy right now. Sorry.”

Cassandra quirked an eyebrow. “I had pranksters for brothers. I’ve learned to handle mud.”

With that she strode in, an oddly familiar, stubborn pride driving her. Keyleth smiled and followed.

Cassandra kept going until the dark pressed in too much for her human eyes to handle, whereupon Keyleth called forth a tiny, concentrated ball of sunlight, and watched Cassandra look around in sudden surprise. The cavern was simple enough, just a small, hollowed space in the soil, but all around them was the Sun Tree’s network of roots. They peeked out from the disrupted earth, latticed almost into a ceiling, then veered in again, diving far below. Cassandra looked disoriented, as if overwhelmed by the scale of it all. The Sun Tree was already a massive example of its species, and its roots stretched further than most.

 _I wonder if she senses it,_ Keyleth thought. _The way it connects to the world…_

She thought about that for a minute before she settled down cross-legged and said, “Here. Sit with me.”

Cassandra slowly took Keyleth’s suggestion. She didn’t seem to worry about the condition of her cloak or her heavily embroidered dress. She just sat quietly, knee to knee with Keyleth in the cramped space, and watched as Keyleth touched the visible curve of a nearby root, saying, “Hey there, old friend.”

Keyleth heard a slow murmur. She smiled hopefully and pulled the box from her bag. She still wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, but she opened it anyway, studying the colored strips of fabric. Green, white, embroidered gold…

On impulse, she drew two from the box and knotted them end to end. Then she added another. “Here,” she said to Cassandra. “Help me make a chain.”

Cassandra brushed back her white-threaded braid, picked up a piece of cloth, and silently worked alongside Keyleth until they’d knotted a nearly complete circle. Keyleth made a tie between the sun-embroidered strip and the little girl’s clipping of ivory fabric, taking extra care with both.

“You hold one side,” Keyleth said, clasping it gently in one hand and settling it into her lap. “I’ll hold the other.”

Uncertainty crept into Cassandra’s expression. She was still contemplating her unfinished side of the circle. “Is there anything else I should do? I don’t have any real magic I can contribute. Not like you. Or…”

She didn’t finish the thought. Keyleth made an encouraging hum.

“It’s all right. When I’m here, I’m reaching out to the life around us, feeling how it all connects, sending my magic out along those lines. It can be easy to sort of…wander, and that can be dangerous. You can help keep me grounded.”

Keyleth put one hand to the nearest root and held the chain with the other. Cassandra considered her untied ends of the fabric, then set the chain down and took hold of one of her sleeves. To Keyleth’s surprise, she made one quick, firm tug and ripped off a length of the trim that had been ringing her wrist. Then she bent her head and whispered something over it that Keyleth couldn’t hear, something she repeated over and over before taking a deep, shaky breath. She used the fabric to knot the chain closed: one gray-threaded strip of black connecting two long stretches of white and green.

Keyleth reached for something to say, but didn’t find it before Cassandra clenched one hand firmly around the ribbons and dug the fingers of her left hand into the soil. Her expression was still strangely complex, and Keyleth worried at her lower lip for a moment, wondering what it meant.

“Are you ready?” Keyleth asked at last.

Cassandra squared her shoulders. She said as if she were the one giving permission, “Please begin.”

Keyleth raised her eyebrows. _Well, she does run this place,_ she reminded herself. _And if she wants, she can kick you out. Don’t mess this up._

Keyleth did her best to settle herself, then let her magic begin to rise.

It began with something to push back the cold: warmth and waking, a subtle nudge toward life. The healing followed. It twined in alongside the tree’s own forces, slowly feeding it strength. Keyleth had to be careful—she’d seen what happened if she poured in too much power, too fast—but if she could be patient, and persistent, and strong…

She thought of spring, no matter how far off it seemed, and held on tighter.

As the spell built, she heard Cassandra make a soft murmur. It took care to divide her attention, but Keyleth slowly drew enough of her awareness back to open her eyes. Everything looked different somehow—the roots so distinct, their patterns meaningful in a way she hadn’t grasped before. The soil felt richer, the smells stronger. And Cassandra was staring with open awe at the threads of green-tinted light that were spreading from Keyleth into everything else.

To her surprise, they’d sent hopeful runners into the chain, too.

The soft whisper she heard moments later sounded like people’s voices, faint and fragmented, giving hints of the wishes they’d made at the tree—for sunlight, for healing, for each other. And Keyleth startled into full alertness when she heard Cassandra’s voice again. The plea she’d made just moments before echoed throughout the entire chamber now. _Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me…_

The light flared. Keyleth gasped as the whole fabric chain caught alight, burning so suddenly she didn’t even feel the heat. There was just light pouring out, a flutter of sparks, and Cassandra staring with shock at the trace of ash in her hands.

“No,” she whispered. “I…”

Keyleth pointed, drawing her attention to the ceiling of their chamber. “It’s all right. Look!”

Cassandra did. For a second, the sparks shone like stars before they were absorbed into the soil and the roots themselves. Energy thrummed around them. Keyleth felt as if everything around her had just breathed in, ready for something, right on the verge.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Sun Tree?”

This time, she heard real words at last. _Hey, Kiki._

Keyleth’s mouth fell open, then stretched into a wide, beaming smile. “Did you hear that?”

“I…no. What did—“

Keyleth impulsively reached forward and grabbed Cassandra’s hand. “I’m here, Sun Tree. _We’re_ here. You can hear me?”

There was a slow sound that reminded Keyleth somehow of a yawn. _Sure I can._

This time, Cassandra’s eyes went wide. She didn’t say anything, though, before the tree spoke once more: _You too, little one._ His voice went warmer. _Missed you._

Cassandra made a stunned little sound. And all around Keyleth, the energy shifted. She’d been the source of the flow to begin with, but now the tree was reaching out _through_ her, as if he, too, wanted to hold onto Cassandra’s shaking hand. She heard him whisper something more, but it was focused this time, meant only for Cassandra’s ears. Whatever it was, it made the girl gasp for breath.

Keyleth had the sudden sense that the Sun Tree was answering Cassandra’s plea.

 _Gods, we should have talked to her before this,_ Keyleth thought. _We should have helped her with what she went through._ Because this _had_ to be about her time with the Briarwoods, the way Cassandra was reacting. “But…the things I was part of,” Cassandra whispered. “The things that happened here. To _you._ Everything I…”

 _It doesn’t matter what happened then,_ the Sun Tree said, strongly enough now that Keyleth heard him, too. _You’re here now. And we’re good, Cassie. We’re good._

For a second Cassandra’s expression didn’t change. Finally something cracked. After all, Keyleth realized, Cassandra was unusually protected here: not watched by all of Whitestone, not expected to uphold perfect restraint. So for once, she let her self-control go. As a surge of emotion almost visibly hit her, her brimming tears spilled over, and a sound half-laugh, half-sob burst free.

Keyleth, moving in one instinctive rush, gathered Cassandra into a hug.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. The healing magic still glowing around her hands began to sink into Cassandra instead, and maybe, Keyleth thought, that was what this needed to be about after all. “It’s okay.”

Cassandra didn’t answer, exactly, but she hung on tighter for a second before she began to calm, taking the comfort offered. So did Keyleth, breathing in the deep, powerful sense of life all around her before letting her connection to the tree slowly fade. After that, everything went still. She heard the tree one last time, though, and she was certain Cassandra did too.

 _Thank you,_ said the Sun Tree, before quieting into slumber once again.

—

Time had passed swiftly during their work, and the worst of the storm had broken. Keyleth and Cassandra emerged from the underground to find faint color tinting the clouds, the day having turned well toward Whitestone’s early winter sunset.

Cassandra’s poise was returning again, despite what Keyleth was sure would have made her self-conscious under other circumstances: a torn, muddy dress, rumpled hair, and a few lingering tear-tracks showing, although Keyleth’s healing had taken away the worst of the redness in her cheeks. She looked regal despite it all, especially when the last of the light shone down through the branches in such a way that it practically crowned her.

Keyleth took that in, then followed Cassandra’s gaze into the high boughs of the tree.

“How long do you think it will be before we see new growth again?” Cassandra asked.

“Spring if we’re lucky. If not this year, hopefully the next. I’ll keep coming back whenever I can until it happens. Now that he’s waking, I’ve got a lot more hope.”

“I’m grateful. I know you would have had every reason to walk away from this.”

“What do you mean?”

It took her a moment, but she said it. “I know what greeted you at the tree when you first came.”

Keyleth shivered. That image of the effigies, the grim mimicry of all of Vox Machina strung from the Sun Tree’s branches, was still difficult to banish. If she had to admit to it, that was part of why she’d been working so hard here. The more damage she could mend, the more those horrors faded.

She could only hope it would be the same for Cassandra, who had far more to banish than most.

“None of us blame you,” Keyleth said quietly. “Not for any of it. And if you don’t believe me, well…” She pointed at the Sun Tree. “Remember what _he_ said.”

Cassandra’s answering smile was wistful, but it was there. “Regardless…can we agree on one small point?”

“What’s that?”

“Please let’s not tell my brother I’ve been in conference with a tree.”

Keyleth laughed. “You might be surprised at what’s normal for him these days. But…your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you.” Cassandra straightened her cloak again. Then she looked sideways at Keyleth and added in almost conspiratorial tones, “Time to get back for dinner, then. It’s probably terrible to admit it, but I’m _starving.”_

Keyleth grinned. “Not terrible at all. Lead on.”

They returned to the castle together, side by side for the long walk back home.

—

Weeks later and miles away, on a gray and difficult day, Keyleth found herself surprised by Percy detaching himself from the others at camp to tell her, “That messenger we met left something for you.”

She straightened up, leaving off her armor repair work. “What was it?”

Percy didn’t respond right away. He looked puzzled, and she almost made a sardonic reply— _you still think it’s_ _strange that someone would be sending me something? I get letters, too!_ —but then she saw why. The envelope was sealed with his own family’s crest.

“It’s from my sister,” he told her, reading the writing twice. “And it’s definitely not for me. Although I’m at a loss as to what this is about.”

“Well, then, let me see it.”

Percy thought about it, then shrugged and extended the envelope her way. Keyleth took it and gave it her own puzzled frown before breaking the seal and giving a good look to what was inside.

A few moments later, she sat back against an enormous stone and breathed, “Oh.”

 _I suppose it’s pointless fancy to put too much stock in dreams,_ Cassandra had written in graceful, precise script, after a few sentences of obligatory pleasantries. _I spent years struggling to convince myself that my nightmares weren’t worth believing, and by the same logic, I shouldn’t allow myself to insist that the better dreams must prove true just because they’re kind. But I feel I ought to tell you about this, for alone of anyone I believe you would understand._

_Last night I dreamed of the Sun Tree covered in ribbons. When I raised my arms to it, it didn’t crumble like it had in the nightmares before. It bloomed. Every scrap of cloth became a leaf, or a flower, or even a bird flying free from the branches. Everything burst into brilliant, vibrant life._

_Then I woke up._

_It’s still winter here, of course. Nothing ordinary is growing yet, and won’t for some time. But I went to see the tree again today. I’ve been doing that more often, and not only in your stead; I believe now it’s part of what I must do here. And when I arrived, I saw early buds in the branches. Pelor only knows if they’ll survive the next frost, but they were real, and it looked like there were as many as there had been ribbons before. I believe there was even one to match mine._

_While I was counting, this drifted down into my hands._

_He said it was for you._

Keyleth looked down to see one more, smaller envelope. Holding her breath, she opened it.

Inside was a brilliant green leaf.

She drew it out and cradled in her hands for a long while, studying the tracings of its veins, captivated by its color against the surrounding expanse of gray. As she did, Percy sat beside her. Without, for once, a single word, but with more intuition than Keyleth expected, he pulled a string from the edge of his own battle-damaged sleeve and handed it over. She considered it for only a moment before settling her circlet into her lap and taking up the string and oak leaf both, tying it tightly into place.

He helped her settle the newly adorned antlers on her head when she was done.

“Suits you,” he said, nudging the leaf with one finger. She batted his hand away, but she smiled, too.

When they returned to join the others, the Sun Tree’s gift made everything feel brighter for the first time in days: a little extra magic when she needed it most, and a touch of green in the branches, a promise of oncoming spring.


End file.
